


waste of time

by poppyharris



Series: enigmas [1]
Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: Other, Regrets, Suicide, only like one person gets graphically shot though, school shooting, this isn’t comedic or sexual i’m being serious for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: dylan always found breathing to be a waste of time, but when it came to using that time usefully, he hesitates.
Series: enigmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042629
Kudos: 11





	waste of time

**Author's Note:**

> i just had a hell of an argument with my ex boyfriend and i’m apathetic to shit so uh enjoy ig  
this isn’t a call for help i’m not gonna shoot up a school i promise

dylan hated hearing himself breathe.

in was like a wave rushing towards him, filling his ears and suffocating his mind. his chest expanding felt like he was tearing himself apart, almost as if he could feel the muscles tear as his body desperately tried to keep itself alive.

walking by a desk, he fired a full clip into the top, the shots becoming in tune with his own heart. fuck that pulsating piece of shit. who the fuck did it think it was? pumping blood around his body while he was pumping round after round into some fucker’s skull?

dylan was mildly aware of eric crouching by the shattered window, firing a few shots at the police outside. it was a miserable fucking day. grey skies and a chance of rain later. dylan wondered what eric was seeing with his luvox tinted glasses on. all dylan saw was a shitty high school library with spent ammo and blood stains everywhere.

the weight of pipe bombs seemed to slow his movements, the scratch of the sparking strip feeling like someone was rubbing sandpaper against his wrist. the world seemed even shittier than before.

this wasn’t the utopia he’d been seeking. dylan felt none of the euphoria he’d been expecting. 

he didn’t even react when he saw one of his teachers poke her head above the checking out desk, frantically speaking into a phone. at least he was going down in history.

man, he could have a book written about him one day. dylan pondered what photo he’d most like them to use on the front cover, before feeling a shotgun push against his back. 

“vod, bro, you ready?” 

eric sounded very far away. like he was whispering in dylan’s ear through a loudspeaker.

out.

dylan released the breath in his lungs, the stale air warming his mouth as it left his body. sobs, sirens and screaming suddenly filled his ears. the stench of blood and gunpowder made dylan scrunch up his nose, wanting to recoil away from his own skin. 

eric moved so he was standing to the left of dylan, right in front of the military history section. ironic. eric dying surrounded by swastikas. if they had a little more time, dylan would’ve asked eric if he got anything out of... this. the hour they’d spent trying to destroy this school. the hour they’d spent trying to make their goddamn mark.

dylan looked over at his shoulder at the bookcase behind him. tudors. an empty space was in the middle, and dylan realised that book was at the bottom of his school bag under his bed and had been for the last six months. oh well. they could bill byron the late fees.

eric reloaded his gun one last time, waiting until dylan had done the same before giving him a small nod.

as dylan raised the gun to his temple, he breathed in again. savouring the way his mouth gaped to capture the air. his air. his heart was pumping away, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. dylan was the master of his own fate now, he was going to be the final death.

this was it. reb and vodka. partners in crime til the very end.

dylan’s blood roared in his ears, so loud, he almost missed the countdown.

”three!”

his heart was pumping faster now, finally cottoning on to what his head had decided.

”two!” 

dylan felt his hand shake, his finger remaining firmly on the trigger.

”one!”

the bang of eric’s gun shot through the air.

dylan exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> y’all i am now so calm and it’s 2:18am


End file.
